


It's your fuckin' nightmare

by mahkent



Series: Life's so reckless, tragedy endless, welcome to the family [7]
Category: Everyman HYBRID
Genre: Forced Pregnancy, M/M, Past Rape, further warning in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 20:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16291292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahkent/pseuds/mahkent
Summary: He misses his little girl. Her bones between his teeth can't overshadow how he felt when he held her in his arms for the first time. Joy, adoration- this fragile little girl relying on him and Steph, this fragile little girl reaching up with tiny hands to grasp at his bangs hanging down around his face. She was fucking precious.





	It's your fuckin' nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> alternate canon after [chapter eleven of part two.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15727692/chapters/36714705)
> 
> warning for forced pregnancy resulting from past rape, childbirth, breastfeeding, dysphoria, and child death/murder.

Evan's chest is soft at first then tight, the pressure intense and unforgiving, his nipples and his skin sensitive when anything brushes across them. Leaking often, it's utterly humiliating to have to ask Vinny to help, but _god_ does it feel good. Those long fingers brushing over his chest - his pecs - his breasts - whatever he doesn't want to call them, Vinny presses down softly until the milk dribbles out. He never does anything more; he just presses until Evan stops whimpering, until Evan’s chest isn't quite as tight as before.

Evan hates it. He hates the feeling of the thing kicking up into his ribs constantly, he hates the pressure in his chest and the way his body is so soft and feminine now. His hair is long and shiny, which he wouldn't mind but it's so _female_ that he takes a kitchen knife to it barely a month into the damn parasite infestation when his stomach is already curving outward. He hates when he trails a hand down his body and feels the size of himself, the stretch marks slashed across his stomach and thighs and chest.

He hates when his hips shift. It isn't over a long period of time like it would be in a human pregnancy- he's walking the meager distance between the couch and the kitchen when his hips suddenly _crack_ , snapping outward with a flare of pain up his spine and through his bones so bad that he collapses and shrieks. Falling right onto his goddamn stomach and waking the monster inside of him, it claws and thrashes but he still can't think through the pain-

After that, he doesn't walk as much as he did. His stomach is too large, too heavy, and his hips are too foreign for him to even think of it. (And Vinny keeps getting all agitated when he stands and can't balance.) 

Vinny’s been worried throughout the whole thing, really. Stressed and skittering back when Evan groans from false contractions even so early into the infestation, Vinny doesn't want to touch Evan for so long until Evan sits on his lap one day- his stomach curving in between them, an unwanted reminder of what HABIT did to Evan with Vinny’s body- and Evan kisses Vinny even though he can feel his stomach pressing into Vinny’s, the monster tossing and turning- 

The worst part though is getting it out. He's too _small_ , he's too small for the damn thing to get out of him even though his legs are spread as wide as he can make them and Vinny’s murmuring that he's fully dilated, everything's open and ready but the monster’s head catches on something deep inside him and it thrashes, it _thrashes_ until its arms squirm up through him and out of him and pull, they pull, it hurts so bad that he screams loud enough to make his own ears ring-

The monster comes out with a horrible rending and tearing of his flesh. His battered vagina split, it’s more agony piled atop the shrieking pain of every nerve he has. The fresh little thing, new and wet with Evan’s blood and other fluids he can't identify in his shocked state, it babbles. His brain is fogged and he's barely aware of Vinny suddenly standing with the wrong posture- the scent of HABIT over Evan's blood and the monster, HABIT puppeteers Vinny’s body with the monster in his arms to where Evan can see it.

It looks like a human baby disregarding the massive fangs and claws. Too old to have just come out of him if it were human, a month or two along in the living process, it reaches out for Evan and coos in a voice too developed for something he just forced out _mama_. It grasps onto his heaving chest when HABIT puts it on there even though Evan’s still pushing placenta out, even though he's crying and whining and too weak to push it away from his leaking nipples. It latches on- the sucking relieves so much of the agonizing pressure that he sobs in relief, but HABIT looking down at him with such a _proud_ expression makes him sob in terror.

HABIT talks. _Such a good mama,_ it says in Vinny’s voice, reaching down with stolen fingers to tweak his free nipple. The monster is still drinking with fervor and there's so much going on that Evan can't stop crying, shaking even though the placenta finally slips out of his ravaged vagina (because the monster tore it apart, he can feel the burn but it's nothing compared to how his body burns with shame that he went through this.) His swollen breasts (that's what they are, he knows) are both leaking but the monster is drinking from one and he's covered in his own blood, his own fucking _milk_ , other fluids he doesn't know anything about except that they're sticky on his skin.

_What a good little host. A good mama, I loved wearing you but now that I know you can make me more? Perfect little babies like this one-_ HABIT won't stop talking in Vinny’s voice. HABIT sits beside him; it leaves the baby where it is, and slowly Evan brings his arms up to cradle it. 

To cradle his _baby_. It's a beautiful mix between him and Vinny, soft brown hair and brown eyes that are already open even though Evan just pushed the damn thing out. It has Vinny’s eye shape, Evan's nose (maybe), and it's looking up at him smartly. Evan can't help but love it. Nine goddamn months he spent with it in him, torturing his every movement and leading him to downing the entire bottle of old pills he found while Vinny was asleep, passing out on the floor and waking with his stomach squirming (his belly button popped out) and Vinny sobbing over him hours later. Nine months he suffered for the thing that his stupid hormonal body can't help but love.

He feels disgusting. A crawling feeling under his skin he always gets when he isn't confident about his body, only exacerbated by his swollen breasts and the way HABIT’s stolen fingers keep tweaking his free nipple so it dribbles again and again, he wants to die. He wants to die because his skin is cold with sweat and there's blood still oozing from his vagina, there's a placenta between his legs and HABIT’s leaving his side to eat it. 

The baby nestled in his arms coos _mama_ again around his nipple. Its teeth are sharp, the nips only a drop into a bucket of white-hot agony he doesn't care to pay attention to. Evan can only look down with exhausted eyes, sprawled on the floor as he is, he can only watch as the baby ( _his_ baby) suckles and relaxes against his skin.

Vinny was there for most of the birth, Evan knows. Evan thinks, anyway. But Evan can't think much of anything right now when HABIT stands. It takes Vinny’s body with it, calling “be good, mama” before it slams and locks the door. Vinny’s gone- the body, the man, somewhere in the wild that Evan won't be let out into for a while. He puts one hand on his baby’s back and feels so, so alone.

After that he doesn't bother fighting the darkness that takes him and shuts his eyes for him, steeping him in exhaustion and the relaxation of sleep. No pain, no thoughts, no reality of his body not his own, no friend torn from his side again.

* * *

Evan wakes alone. It's no surprise- HABIT left and took Vinny with it, he remembers. 

But perhaps alone isn't the right term. The baby is asleep against his chest, covered in dried whatever from the birth and feeding, and it counts as someone with him. Sort of. It's a baby. They aren't cognizant of anything, they're stupid and small and Evan never wanted one like this.

He misses his little girl. Her bones between his teeth can't overshadow how he felt when he held her in his arms for the first time. Joy, adoration- this fragile little girl relying on him and Steph, this fragile little girl reaching up with tiny hands to grasp at his bangs hanging down around his face. She was fucking precious. 

The thing on his chest now, though? Not precious. It's a demon, the product of rape and it's something that ruined his body (it's healing as he thinks, as he lays flat on his back with his legs still open) forever. The thing on his chest is small but not weak. It's too grown, too demonic-

He looks around so he doesn't have to look at it. In the corner is a crib, soft blankets and a stuffed rabbit nestled inside of it; on the floor next to that is a pack of diapers, and a few little baby outfits. Evan doesn't look at them for too long. He's too busy shifting, standing slowly and painfully, holding the baby-monster-whatever under the arms and putting it into the crib as is. Not cleaning, not taking care of it, nothing. It can die for all he cares. 

HABIT might make him have another one. He's already decided- if that happens, if he gets pregnant again despite how he had his fucking uterus removed years ago, he’ll kill himself. Over and over until it sticks or HABIT tires of his bullshit and kills him itself. Either way, he wins; he's dead. He doesn't have to deal with this anymore.

* * *

He's allowed to control his body after an unknown spanse of HABIT running around in it. His consciousness is crushed, HABIT murmurs _you're a decent host, Vinny_ in some deep cruel growl, he isn't cognizant until he snaps back through the cellophane of possession standing outside of the door to their apartment.

The door is slightly ajar. When he pushes it open he sees something he didn't expect, really- Evan sitting up, the monster in his arms. His poor friend looks exhausted (shadows under his eyes like ink smeared across his skin, face thin and haggard because Vinny is sure there wasn't enough food left for the time HABIT controlled him) as he holds the monster, rocking it slowly. His rough voice is floating through the air; a song. Some sort of nursery rhyme, short, sung over and over to lull the monster to sleep. _Kookaburra sits in the oak-gum tree, merry-merry king of the bush is he-e,_ Evan sings. His voice is beautiful, raspy, rough, but beautiful nonetheless. Vinny doesn't try to get his attention until the next few seconds bring the rest of the lullaby. _Laugh, kookaburra laugh, how gay your life must be-_ Evan stops, suddenly. Those tired eyes slide up to stare at Vinny. 

The standoff is tense. Something animal rises in Vinny’s poor friend, pulling his lips away from his teeth in a snarl as he hunches his shoulders. The baby-monster isn't pulled closer to him though; he practically offers it to Vinny with shaking hands. The child (if that's what he can call it) is dressed in a little, soft onesie, purple with a rabbit across the chest. Vinny knows Evan had to put it on the monster. The man has practice, yes, but-

He's dragged out of his thoughts by Evan speaking. The sweet singing is gone, replaced by a voice like shattered glass. “Take it, HABIT. It's _yours_.” He says, even though Vinny’s sure Evan can tell when HABIT’s here or not- maybe he's too tired. His friend’s skin is pale, his breath shaky from exhaustion. The monster must be keeping him up-

Vinny talks without meaning to. “Evan- Ev, it’s me. I-” he stops, suddenly. What does he say? Evan’s been alone for however long, taking care of the monstrous product of brutal abuse, likely forced to let it suckle on the things he hates on his body, taking care of a baby that probably just reminds him of his dead baby girl. “Evan. Are you- are you hurt?”

Evan doesn't reply. He just shifts the baby, putting it on the ground and pushing some little chew toy towards it like it's a dog. “Here, fucker,” he snarls at the baby- it doesn't reply beyond babbling _mama_ , bringing a sneer to Evan’s face. Then he stands slowly. Even with how Evan is staying guarded, face closed off and muscles tense, Vinny can see that he's in pain. The sweat starting to shine on his skin even from such little movements makes it so obvious. Not to mention how he stands- a little hunched, hiding his chest and keeping his legs a bit too far apart. 

Then Evan talks. It's a clearly practiced speech, all rasped out in his broken voice. “You left a crib and baby stuff. I've been dealing with that motherfucker for probably a month or two now if you forgot. Your nut fucking made that, HABIT, so you get to deal with it too.” It's harsh- Evan still thinks he's HABIT. That tears Vinny apart more than the concept of having to handle the monster HABIT forced Evan to carry, torturing him even when the being wasn't around.

“Evan- I’ll help. I will. Just, I’m _Vinny_.” His words make Evan sneer even more than he already is. It's only when the monster on the floor starts fussing and reaching for him that Evan’s face falls flat. He sits on the futon, grabbing the baby blanket before he pushes his shirt up- Vinny averts his eyes, only because Evan looks irritated by this. Hidden under that blanket, Vinny knows, the baby is feeding. Evan just sits silently and sullenly. Pondering. 

“Vinny?” He asks, after a few minutes of no noise but the baby against his chest. The voice he uses is so fragile, so afraid- almost like that time Vinny found him in that hall, with the hammer tapped against his head as if he were contemplating smashing his skull in. Fear, worry- Vinny doesn't move from where he's standing until Evan looks up with tears in his tired eyes. His friend by his side is so small when he sits that he feels like he might break.

“Yeah, Ev?” He doesn't speak too loudly, not with Evan right beside him and the baby-monster-whatever beside him too. The top of its head is visible, but Evan’s hidden the little face and his chest with the blanket. (That too is purple, patterned with little puppies. The fact that HABIT left a dog blanket with Vinny’s dog just makes him angrier and angrier.) 

“It looks- it looks like you.” His poor dog sounds almost broken. Quiet, looking down at the baby cradled in his arms with its tiny hands on his chest, Evan is smiling faintly. With one hand - hidden from Vinny, but he sees the outline of it shifting the blanket - he pushes the baby’s face away from his chest. It fusses for a moment until he uncovers its face and shifts it to where Vinny can see it. 

It does look like him. That baby face, shaped like every other baby alive, it has dark eyes. Smart eyes. Looking up at Vinny, it blinks a few times, then _dada_ slips from that tiny mouth filled with too many sharp teeth. It has dark, soft hair, a bit lighter than his but still nearly black. One pushy hand lifts to grasp for Vinny. “Oh,” he murmurs, lifting a hand without thinking about it and offering the baby one finger.

It's so gentle for a thing created from a violent, vicious act. That tiny hand wraps around his finger- needle-sharp claws adorn the tips, but it doesn't scratch- and it smiles toothily. Despite his dark rage against the thing, Evan laughs quietly. Vinny smiles too; it does look like him. Like them, a mix between Evan and him. Their child. If it weren't for HABIT’s poisonous touch, this would be perfect. A child (product of rape, product of violence) in Evan’s arm; he always wanted a child, Vinny knows. Vinny wanted one too. Wanted, because now any time he thinks of a child he just thinks of his hands on Evan’s hips and watching from afar as HABIT uses him and abuses Evan. 

Once he realizes what he's doing he pulls his hand away. The baby fusses; Evan hushes it, gentle, paternally. He covers it again with the blanket and guides it to nurse so it doesn't start crying. 

“I hate this.” The thought races through his mind then slips out past his lips. Vinny’s voice is harsh; Evan looks up, confused, alarmed. He continues. “We just- we have to act like this is _normal?_ We have to raise that fucking thing because HABIT decided to rape you? Like- what the hell?!” Increasingly angry, Vinny stands. Evan hushes the baby again. “Can we kill it?”

The question doesn't go through his filter. It might upset Evan, he realizes, to kill the baby after his daughter died between his unwilling lips. It might be impossible to kill the thing when it's born of HABIT’s manipulation. It might just make HABIT do this all over again.

Evan looks down at the thing, silent. The blanket covering it shifts, falls off when it raises its head and fusses. Vinny’s poor friend just lifts it, letting it rest against his chest and lay its head on his shoulder. _Shsh- baby, hush,_ he murmurs to it admonishingly. It falls silent just because Evan’s running his stumped hand over its back almost comfortingly, then he looks up with sad eyes. “We should. I don't want HABIT to use it for whatever it’s fuckin’ planned.”

Vinny nods, silent as Evan keeps comforting the monster.

* * *

The door is still unlocked by the time they get everything ready. A kitchen knife, wicked and sharp; pills left in the cabinet, enough to kill even Evan; the bottle of bleach from under the sink; the hammer left on the kitchen counter. The baby is held in Evan’s arms, fast asleep, wrapped in the purple dog blanket.

It shocks Evan that they're allowed to simply leave. The door is ajar, unlocked, and they walk out. Vinny’s by his side, a backpack on his back that will certainly be perceived as full of baby things. Evan holds the baby tightly to his chest and prays that it doesn't wake and start fussing.

Of course, it isn't a difficult baby. Even his little girl cried more than it, and she barely fussed at all, happy though she was with her simply life of her mother and her father. The monster, though? It's far too smart. It fusses only for Evan to feed it and when it needs changed. Otherwise it's silent. Always watching, always focused on Evan. Sometimes, only sometimes, it babbles _mama_ , _dada_ , even though Evan never identified either of them with those terms.

The month or two he was alone with it was torture, really. Day after day of menial tasks regarding the baby. Day after day of letting it feed from the things he hates most about his HABIT-altered body. Day after day of doing nothing but thinking about his baby girl when he looked at the thing; it played just like her, laughing when it knocked the colorful blocks he found over, it chewed on his fingertips when he wasn't paying attention to it. (Chewing on the stumps and it still smiles up at him, just like his little girl that he misses so fucking much, an empty hole in his chest pulling at his thoughts every day.) 

The baby still made him smile. It was so familiar, so much like his little girl that he maybe did start playing with it a few times. Maybe he did sing to it (more than) a few times. Maybe he did hold it on his hip and dance with it to Sinatra, the only thing HABIT loaded onto the computer. He let it claw its way into his heart, filling the empty hole of his daughter perhaps a bit too well.

Now he holds it to his chest, eyes focused on Vinny and mouth shut. Everyone has to think they're just a father and his friend out for a walk, and they have to think both he and his baby are normal. They can't see the sharp teeth or the stumps or the claws or realize that this little family is far from human. 

They walk for a while. Vinny stands a bit too close to just be his friend, then he settles an arm around Evan’s shoulder. The cover story shifts- they look like boyfriends, now. Husbands. It isn't an idea he opposes, really; despite how much they've been through and the dog settled solidly in his head, he still loves Vinny. Everything about him is so, so beautiful to Evan. His little snort-laugh, his crooked smile that slims his eyes, the way he's always so gentle and sweet and caring. The thought of Vinny maybe coming back was the only thing that kept him going, when he was alone with the monster. Either monster. HABIT, the baby he refuses to name, when he thought about Vinny it didn't seem so bad anymore that he was stuck with either of them.

The peace is broken by them stepping off the path, into a forest. The baby wakes just enough to paw at his chest when the sun is blocked by the gnarled branches above their head; he has to stop. He has to, there’s that disgusting urge curling around his heart to feed his child. Keep it alive. Vinny is kind as ever with this. He stops, looking away when Evan pulls his shirt up and lets the baby latch onto his chest. He only looks down when Evan looks up at him from his spot on the ground, against a tree; that handsome face is pinched in concern. “How are we going to- um, you know.” He asks, when the monster is preoccupied with feeding and isn’t listening. 

Evan hesitates. A weight has settled in his chest, just as heavy as the baby against his chest now. He’s not so sure he _can_ kill this thing. As the guilt and shame wrap around his brain he pulls the baby closer to him, holding it close and keeping it safe. Even though he knows Vinny just wants to free them from this torturous burden, he can’t help but act on his new (not so new) instincts. 

“Ev?” He hears, distantly. Though he knows he’s in control he doesn’t feel that way anymore. Slowly his knees lift to where they’d almost be against his chest if it weren’t for the baby still held in his arms. The baby, unnamed; the monster, unwanted; it whines and lets go of his chest to look up at him. Those smart brown eyes are confused, now, filling with tears because it doesn’t know why he’s afraid.

It’s all he can do to not start crying, when he sees his baby so upset. He blinks away the warmth in his eyes, he swallows slowly, and opens his mouth to calm his unwanted child. Again, that same lullaby he sung to his little girl. Again, he sings. _Kookaburra sits in the oak-gum tree,_ his voice shakes but he keeps going because his baby’s eyes are still wet with tears. _merry-merry king of the bush is he-e,_ Vinny above him is still, silent. Looking down with sad, sad eyes, the same beautiful brown as his baby’s eyes. _Laugh, kookaburra laugh, how gay your life must be._ he finishes just as his baby sniffles and lays its head down on his chest.

“I-” he starts, voice shattering into two pieces before he clears his throat. “I. Can’t. I can’t, Vin. Don’t make me do it.” It’s a pathetic attempt at begging. Evan’s already shaking, nervous; will Vinny be angry? He keeps talking, staring down at the top of his baby’s head. “It has to die, but- don’t make me do it, Vin.” He can’t live with another death on his hands, especially not his baby. His poor baby girl dying between his teeth as he screamed; this little monster dying at Vinny’s hands.

“...Okay, Ev. I’ll do it.”

* * *

Vinny stares down at the baby.

Pushing dozens of pills into its tiny mouth, down its tiny throat, feels so wrong.

Putting the opening of the bleach bottle to its lips feels so wrong.

Tilting the bleach bottle back so it has to drink feels so wrong.

Everything is moment to moment. The baby, his baby by only a technicality, it looks up at him with such abject trust and babbles _dada_ when it’s swallowed the pills and the bleach.

Evan behind him is sobbing. Body wracking sobs as he watches the baby he carried for nine months and raised for at least three months now die. Both of them look down, watch the baby stop moving and stop reaching. Both of them watch it choke. It rasps, starting to cry and wail as it feels its esophagus shred- Vinny sees blood burbling up from its stomach, out its lips, down its face. 

Moment to moment. It cries. Its face is red, tears streaming from its smart brown eyes. It starts wriggling even though to pills are taking effect still and dulling its muscles. The poor baby, it wails, it cries out _mama_ because it’s in agony.

“Stop-” he hears Evan say behind him, then he feels a shoulder connect with his side. Body slam- one of Evan’s favorite moves, it sends Vinny stumbling away from the baby, and it gives Evan enough room to kneel in front of his poor baby.

Evan’s mutilated fingers fit snugly around the baby’s neck. He’s sobbing down at it, lips pulled away from his teeth and body shaking so hard it may as well be seizing. _I’m sorry, mama’s sorry, mama’s sorry, I don’t want HABIT to take you, mama’s sorry_ he repeats down at the baby as his grip tightens and his hands twist around that fragile little neck.

_Crack._

* * *

The baby’s broken body is buried in that forest. No marker, no sign that any dead child is in the hole Vinny dug as Evan kept sobbing over the tiny corpse, repeating _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_ like a mantra that might bring the baby back. Nothing left to signify the baby was ever alive but freshly churned dirt and the blanket Evan kept.

Vinny knows Evan is even more broken from this. Too many tiny, tiny pieces- how could he ever come back from this? Vinny can’t piece together glass beaten into dust. Vinny can’t make it to where that baby never tortured Evan with its very existence.

Vinny tries, though. He holds Evan close as the man becomes borderline catatonic from the weight of grief bearing down on his soul. He doesn’t question when Evan falls asleep clutching the purple puppy blanket to his chest, he just pulls the quilt over his friend’s shoulders and smooths his hair away from his face. Vinny _tries._

The baby’s broken body is left in a forest they don’t know the name of. Vinny is left with the distant sensation of fatherhood on his tongue and a broken friend. A broken partner, a broken dog, so many pieces that Vinny can’t pick up; he’s left with the weight of HABIT’s orgasm in his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> the first portion of this i've had for a while- it was supposed to be the next part of the series, after chap11 of pt2, but i didn't want to write about pregnancy. i had planned to have nine or ten chapters in part 3, each focusing on a different month and then birth; didn't happen. didn't want to write that.
> 
> i've had time though, and after the first part i get into the swing of things. evan's grieving over his dead little girl and starts to get used to caring for the demon child. vinny just wants to make sure evan isn't going to off himself. they both don't want their little baby to suffer at habit's hands.
> 
> title from avenged sevenfold's "nightmare".


End file.
